


Living It Up When I'm Going Down

by ereshai



Series: Various Prompt Fills [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Making Out, Trapped In Elevator, Tumblr: imagineyourotp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 19:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1399423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine your OTP stuck in an elevator after they’ve had a fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living It Up When I'm Going Down

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Aerosmith's "Love in an Elevator"

Clint pushes the button for the R&D floor for the third time, but the elevator doors still won’t close. He stifles a groan of frustration. He could use the other elevator that allows access to the restricted sections of HQ, but it’s on the other side of the complex, and he’s _tired_ , goddammit. R&D is his last scheduled appointment, and then he can go home and relax in front of the TV with a pizza and not think about Phil, that asshole.

He jabs the button again, and the doors finally start to slide shut. A hand shoots through the opening just before they close completely, and Clint doesn’t need to see the man’s face to know who it is. With his luck, there’s only one person it can be. The doors slide open again, and yep, Phil is on the other side.

Phil- Coulson hesitates briefly, but he boards the elevator. Clint looks away. He’s about to get off and wait for the next one - hell, he’ll walk across HQ to get to the other elevator, it’s not that far - but the doors close before he can take more than a step in that direction. _Of course they’re working now._

Clint folds his arms across his chest and refuses to look at Coulson. Sure, he misses the guy – he hadn’t realized how much of his free time was spent doing things with Phil until he’d started spending all of that free time pointedly _not_ doing things with Phil. Natasha only allows so much wallowing before she starts showing him new and interesting ways that she can dump him on his ass; training, as she likes to call it. They’ve been training a lot over the last three days.

The elevator jerks to a stop. The lights flicker a couple of times, but they stay on. Clint sneaks a look at Coulson, but Coulson is looking up at the lights. The doors don't open; they are definitely not at their destination. Clint hits the Emergency button, which does exactly nothing. He pulls out his cell phone; out of the corner of his eye, he sees Coulson do the same. No signal.

“That’s impossible,” Clint mutters. Starkphones are supposed to get service everywhere, and they’re barely underground. He tilts it from side to side, then holds it up above his head. Still nothing. He’s going to give Tony so much shit for this. Coulson glares at his own phone and shoves it back in his pocket.

Clint opens his mouth, his natural inclination to speak almost overriding his hurt and anger. He doesn’t say anything, ignoring Ph-Coulson’s hopeful expression. Maybe in a few days he’ll try to fix things between them – he doesn’t want to break up – but he’s not ready yet.

“We’re stuck here until they notice something’s wrong,” Coulson says quietly, and Clint nods. Neither of them bring up the possibility of breaking out – secured elevators are designed to prevent that. They could get out eventually, but not without a lot of damage to SHIELD property, and someone would probably free them first anyway.

Clint considers the idea that HQ is under attack, but whatever is happening with the elevator must be mechanical; partial shutdown is not part of the security protocols. He settles down in a corner; no sense in standing around when they don’t know how long they’ll be there. Coulson sits in the opposite corner, resting his forearms on his drawn up knees. Clint can’t avoid looking at him without being obvious about it, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle. The ceiling is not very interesting.

The silence is oppressive. Time passes slowly, according to Clint’s watch; he’s sure they’ve been there longer than twenty minutes. He’s waited to take a shot, unmoving and silent, for much longer periods of time. This is harder. He closes his eyes.

“Barton,” Coulson says, hesitant. Clint doesn’t answer. Coulson clears his throat and tries again. “Clint. What I said- I didn’t mean it. It sounded better in my head, but it came out…wrong.”

Clint had hoped that was the case, but it’s nice to have it confirmed. It still doesn’t fix everything.

“And…and I didn’t know how to take it back.” He pauses. “How to apologize.”

“Most people say sorry.”

Phil takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Clint.”

Funny how much those words do help; Phil has never said them to him before. Clint looks him in the eyes for the first time in days. His expression is a mix of hope, wariness, and contrition. It’s kind of pitiful, and Clint wants to laugh, but he’s feeling pitiful himself.  

“Thank you.” They should talk about stuff, their relationship, but Clint can’t do that here. If things get emotional, he has to have an exit, even if he doesn’t take it. That can wait until later, right now he has his own apology to make. “Sorry that I used your suit for target practice.”

“It’s all right. I didn’t like that one anyway.” Realization dawns on his face. “Oh. I see.”

Clint shrugs.

“I appreciate that,” Phil says, amusement in his voice. Clint meets his gaze, and they both smile.

Clint stands up, and so does Phil. They move toward each other, and meet in the middle after only a couple of steps each. Standing that close without touching is weird, so Clint put his arms around him. He buries his face in Phil’s collar, breathing in the lingering scent of his aftershave. He’s missed touching Phil, and he doesn’t want to let go for a long time.

Phil’s arms are tight around him, his breath warm against his neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He kisses Clint’s just under his ear. “I missed you.” A kiss to his jaw. Clint lifts his head, and Phil kisses the corner of his mouth. “Forgive me?”

“Yeah,” Clint says with a sigh. They still have to discuss this like adults, but yeah. He kisses Phil, a gentle meeting of their lips. He steps back, tugging Phil along with him, kissing him again and again until his ass bumps against the handrail. The abrupt stop has Phil pressing against him even more firmly, and Clint savors the feel of him until he pulls away slightly. He runs his hands down Phil’s back and cups his ass, pulling him back in. They’re both already half hard, but elevator sex requires preparation, and they’re too professional to go that far at HQ anyway. Maybe back at the Tower; Phil can sweet-talk JARVIS into some privacy. Whatever, Clint’s okay with making out while they’re stuck.

“Hands above the waist, Barton,” Phil says, mock stern.

“Yes, sir.” Clint takes that as a challenge and moves his leg between Phil’s, pushing against him just enough to keep his dick interested. He moves his hands up under Phil’s jacket and pulls his shirt out of his waistband; he wants to feel skin.

Phil groans and shifts his leg against Clint; if they aren’t careful, they’ll end up dry humping themselves into a mess. They rock against each other, just a little. Phil kisses Clint more urgently, his tongue sweeping along Clint’s lips until Clint lets him in. His hands are fisted in Clint’s shirt, twisting and pulling it up. He finally yanks it up out of the way, just as desperate to touch as Clint is. They kiss hungrily. Phil caresses Clint’s side and brushes a thumb over his nipple.

Clint retaliates by wrapping one leg around Phil’s hip, abandoning all of his restraint. He – they – will just deal with whatever mess they make. He grinds against Phil, frustrated by all they layers between them.

“Clint,” Phil chokes out, but he doesn’t try to stop him.

Clint reaches for Phil’s belt, undoing the buckle. He’s got to get his hands on Phil. Better yet, his mouth. He pulls the zipper down and reaches in-

The elevator starts moving smoothly downward. Phil rests his forehead on Clint’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he says.

***

“JARVIS, cut the feed.”

The projected image winks out.

“Send a message to our pirate friend: Sonny and Cher are back together.” Tony pulls on his goggles and work gloves.

“Perhaps a less dated reference, sir.”

“The greatest love story of their generation, and you want me to use a less dated reference? It’s code. Spies like codes. Now, back to work.” He picks up his welding torch, humming absently. There’s nothing better than solving a problem.

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this in a rush, so please point out any corrections I missed.  
> I should know better than to write and post at 3 am, but I'm doing it anyway.


End file.
